MACRM Chapter 52

Zhong Yao shielded him behind his back and faced the microphones shoved forward one after another.

Without Lin Zhu monitoring him, Zhong Yao’s attitude wasn’t aggressive at all. He answered the questions he was sure about, and smoothly sidestepped the ones he wasn’t, steady and unruffled. Though people with ulterior motives would surely try to twist his words, he never gave them any leverage.

The two assistants cleared a path as they pushed through the crowd toward the car. Lin Zhu felt light-headed, taking step after step while the voices around him faded in and out.

“Our collaboration with Tianxing was very pleasant… I just finished an interview and need to hurry back to the office for something.”

“It’s personal, related to me. It might be officially announced before long.”

“No, I won’t continue on the variety show. I’ll be joining a crew soon. Thank you for your support, I’ll keep working hard…”

Zhong Yao answered every question flawlessly, and Lin Zhu gradually relaxed, following him step by step. They were just about to reach the car when a microphone without a station tag suddenly broke through the crowd and was shoved in front of them.

Lin Zhu, caught off guard, stumbled slightly, but Zhong Yao caught him in time.

A reporter hidden in the back had finally found an opening, and his voice instantly rose above the rest, “Zhong-laoshi, there’s a rumor online saying you’re deliberately selling a CP persona with your agent to gain fans. How do you respond to that?”

Lin Zhu’s heart sank.

He had known Canxing Entertainment wouldn’t let them leave smoothly, but he still didn’t expect they’d dare to attack from this angle. Lin Zhu straightened, instantly recognizing the reporter he’d stopped once before. A flash of coldness passed through his eyes as he stepped forward.

“Zhong-laoshi doesn’t have any CP—”

“I’m not selling a persona.”

Zhong Yao’s voice cut in at the exact same moment. The two of them stopped speaking in unison. The crowd stared, and the scene slowly quieted.

Zhong Yao frowned slightly and lowered his voice:

“CP… what does that even mean?”

Lin Zhu: “…”

Regretting that he hadn’t taught Zhong Yao modern slang earlier, Lin Zhu rubbed his forehead and gave him a rapid crash course:

“CP is… couple. It means people think the two of you are a pair…”

His voice trailed off, and he slowly looked up.

Zhong Yao had most of his body shielding Lin Zhu, head slightly turned, listening intently. Under the glow of the headlights, his features looked unbearably gentle.

Lin Zhu suddenly had no idea what he was saying, and murmured vaguely, “It means… two people are tied together and won’t separate. No matter what happens in the future, they’ll always be together…”

Zhong Yao nodded. “Then it’s correct.”

Lin Zhu froze.

The reporters were dead silent.

In their circle, people always left each other some room. Besides, the agent only seemed unwell today. No one wanted to risk retaliation after he recovered.

Most reporters only wanted first-hand material. After that troublemaker dropped the question, everyone was on edge, staring at Zhong Yao as he straightened and slowly lowered his sleeve.

He was wearing the same French-style shirt as before. The cufflinks — which appeared in many scenes of the [Light and Shadow] trailer — peeked out, and a sharp-eyed reporter instantly recognized them. He switched off his flash and quietly snapped photo after photo.

Zhong Yao kindly reminded him, “And this watch too. Please make sure you get some shots of that.”

Lin Zhu had only just recovered from that previous sentence when he nearly choked again, coughing twice.

Fortunately, Zhong Yao didn’t say anything more. He simply, effortlessly rolled his sleeve a bit higher to give the reporters a better angle, then gently patted Lin Zhu’s back.

Zhong Yao returned to the topic and repeated seriously, “I am not selling a persona.”

“We are actors raised by the people. We should work for the people for as long as we can. I originally only wanted to act with Lin-laoshi until we were seventy-five, but something unexpectedly changed. I just received Lin-laoshi’s contract…”

Lin Zhu: “??”

Lin Zhu had a sudden feeling that Zhong Yao was about to show the reporters his contract with a base salary of only three thousand a month. He tugged on Zhong Yao’s sleeve to stop him, but Zhong Yao lowered his gaze, ruffled his hair, and smiled softly.

Zhong Yao looked up. “From today on, I intend to seriously pursue spending the rest of my life with Lin-laoshi.”

Lin Zhu jerked his head up, unprepared.

Zhong Yao looked completely serious, like a boss planning out an employee’s lifetime agreement, nothing like someone delivering a line that could be considered solid proof of a relationship.

Lin Zhu’s body tensed slightly. His hand by his side curled tight, and he pinched his thigh quietly.

It felt like he’d suddenly stepped off a cliff and fallen into soft, warm clouds. The emotion was so overwhelming that it hadn’t even fully surged up yet. It was all tangled in his chest, full to overflowing.

He lowered his head and took slow, deep breaths.

Zhong Yao gave the nearest camera a slight nod, opened the car door, covered Lin Zhu’s head with his hand, and guided him inside.

The reporters silently moved aside, watching the car drive off.

These last few days had been filled with rumors. With the airing of [No Bridge] and the heated [Light and Shadow] trailer, whether they admitted to being a CP or not, the public had long decided. Be it denial or avoidance, the media could always interpret it however they wanted.

But… Zhong Yao hadn’t said much at all. And yet he had still admitted it.

It was a straight answer. Simple, blunt, and completely disrupting every plan laid down by Canxing.

The reporters stared at one another. Afraid that Lin Zhu’s supposedly vicious team had a prepared trap waiting, not one of them dared to release a headline-worthy bombshell story first.

In the car, with a piece of chocolate melting in his mouth, Lin Zhu finally regained some composure.

Zhong Yao kept holding him, fingers on his pulse. When he saw the color return to Lin Zhu’s lips, he relaxed a little.

“Feeling better?”

Lin Zhu felt weak, but the warmth surrounding him kept him conscious. He looked up quietly. “Ge… the PR…”

“If the PR team calls, I’ll apologize and send them red envelopes to calm them down. You rest for now.”

Zhong Yao said it with unnerving familiarity, gently massaging the back of Lin Zhu’s neck. He then covered Lin Zhu’s eyes with one hand.

The car was slow, with warm air turned on a little. After a while, sensing that Lin Zhu’s eyes had closed, Zhong Yao was about to move his hand away when Lin Zhu grabbed his wrist.

Zhong Yao stayed still, letting his hand rest over Lin Zhu’s eyes.

In the quiet hum of the engine, he felt a faint trace of moisture bloom against his palm, then slowly fade.

Lin Zhu’s fingers were cold, resting over Zhong Yao’s wrist bone, loosening bit by bit.

Lin Zhu whispered, “Ge…”

Zhong Yao answered, “Do you want anything?”

Lin Zhu shook his head. On his delicate face, a faint hint of shyness and unease appeared. His voice was soft. “You…  can you pinch me? I can’t wake up on my own…”

Zhong Yao’s chest tightened, feeling warm. “It’s not a dream.”

He didn’t do as Lin Zhu said. Instead, he pulled him a little closer. “You’ve had dreams like that before?”

Lin Zhu looked embarrassed, the corners of his lips curving slightly. “…Mm.”

Because of the side effects of mind-reading, his dreams weren’t like other people’s. He often slipped into someone else’s perspective after falling asleep. The scenes were as vivid as reality, and there was no fixed length.

Usually, Lin Zhu could still recognize he was dreaming, but that earlier moment had been too tense, and he’d almost failed to react in time.

Zhong Yao’s arms tightened. His voice was gentle. “And what else have you dreamed?”

Lin Zhu froze, then suddenly seemed even happier. “Singing! I dreamed of you singing. And playing the guitar…”

Zhong Yao: “…”

He had a vague sense something was wrong. He picked up the wrapper, examined it under the passing lights outside the car, and stared deeply at the label. It was liquor-filled chocolate.

Zhong Yao rubbed his forehead. He’d been careless.

Maybe Lin Zhu really was tired. Even after eating the chocolate, he didn’t show any sign of wanting to jump out of the car and run. Zhong Yao checked the temperature of his cheek with the back of his hand and began frantically recalling his very limited list of songs.

He had always pursued acting. Since entering the industry, he’d never tried to branch into music. The only related experience he had went back to when he debuted at eighteen, when he’d just begun his rebellious phase, followed a few classmates, practiced guitar for a bit, and learned a few pop songs.

Even Canxing’s first agent assigned to him didn’t know these things. If they had, back in the era when acting-singing-triple-threat idols were popular, Zhong Yao would’ve been dragged out long ago to make money running event stages.

There was no way to play guitar in the current situation. After thinking about detouring to a music store and seeing how late it was, he gave up. He tapped Lin Zhu lightly on the forehead. “I’ll sing for you. Just stop dreaming about me hitting you, okay?”

Lin Zhu was unusually easy to coax. He nodded happily.

Zhong Yao realized he had dug himself a hole. He pulled out his phone, half searching for nearby music shops, half whistling softly, humming the few tunes he knew.

Lin Zhu rested quietly on his shoulder, the corners of his lips rising little by little, burrowing into the crook of Zhong Yao’s neck.

The car stopped downstairs at Zhong Yao’s place.

Lin Zhu had already fallen asleep. Zhong Yao gently shook his shoulder, but couldn’t wake him.

It was never wise to let an agent who had alcohol in him set foot on the ground again. Zhong Yao had learned that deeply. After giving a few instructions to the driver, he wrapped Lin Zhu in his coat and carried him into the building.

Lin Zhu woke in Zhong Yao’s arms. At first he was dazed. Then the elevator’s chime sounded by his ear, and he snapped awake.

Zhong Yao was still holding him. His suit jacket wrapped around him. The cool air brushed his skin, taking away the last trace of dreamlike haze.

Not a dream.

A loud boom went off in Lin Zhu’s head. Flustered, he tried to struggle down. “Ge, I—”

“Be good. We live on the fifteenth floor. You really can’t run up the stairs…”

Zhong Yao’s instinctive tone was all comforting. Then, noticing Lin Zhu’s reaction was off, he smiled lightly. “You’re awake?”

A ringing filled Lin Zhu’s ears. He swallowed with difficulty. “I can walk by myself, Ge… I’m fine…”

Liquor chocolates were weaker than yellow wine. Zhong Yao nodded and gently set him down, anticipating trouble. So, he reached out and held Lin Zhu’s hand firmly on his own.

Lin Zhu: “!!”

He didn’t dare move his arm at all.

If he accidentally— if Zhong Yao didn’t hold tight enough and their hands slipped apart…

Lin Zhu quickly balled his hand into a fist and stuffed it more securely into Zhong Yao’s palm, following him obediently.

Holding Lin Zhu made it hard for Zhong Yao to fish for his keys with one hand. After fumbling for a while, Lin Zhu pulled out his own set of keys and opened the door.

The house was just as it had been when they left at noon.

Several of Lin Zhu’s clothes hung on the entry rack. The shoe cabinet now held a few extra pairs of shoes. A piece of bread with two bites missing had been clipped shut hastily and tossed aside on the table. The milk was half-finished, a small ring of undissolved sugar left at the bottom of the mug.

Zhong Yao lowered his head, changing his shoes. Lin Zhu stood frozen at the doorway, heart thumping as realization sank in.

Without him noticing, under Zhong Yao’s quiet indulgence, the traces he’d left in this home… were already this many.

“Still not fully awake?”

Zhong Yao’s voice was warm, the sharpness from outside gone. He was gentle like the soft light spilling from the entryway lamp. “Come in. Don’t catch a chill… I have something to show you later.”

Lin Zhu let himself be guided in, changed his shoes, still a little dazed.

He had exhausted himself the whole afternoon. His face was still slightly pale. Zhong Yao didn’t want him using up more mental energy. He coaxed him into the bedroom to rest, then turned to prepare something to eat, only to nearly step on the little tail that had quietly followed him.

Lin Zhu’s face reddened a bit. He held the mug Zhong Yao had placed in his hands. “Instant noodles are fine…”

“The instant noodles are locked in the cabinet. You’ve been busy all day. Eat something decent.”

Zhong Yao intended to tease him. He washed his hands, boiled water, cracked eggs, dragged out a chair for Lin Zhu, and filled half the mug with juice. “I’ll make an egg pancake, fry some ham and bacon, and toast two steamed buns. I also have some barbeque sauce on hand. What else do you want? Want me to fry a few slices of potato too?”

Lin Zhu swallowed uncontrollably and bowed before delicious food. “Yes.”

Zhong Yao smiled, ruffling his hair. His movements were neat; the aroma spread instantly and aggressively.

After being hungry all afternoon, Lin Zhu’s faintly aching stomach fully awakened. He couldn’t care about all the thoughts tangled in his heart. He dove straight into the plates Zhong Yao brought out.

Once full, it was already late at night.

Still thinking about what Zhong Yao wanted to show him, Lin Zhu couldn’t bring himself to ask. Even though he was nodding off, he stubbornly followed behind him as he washed the dishes, holding his warm mug of milk, swaying sleepily.

Zhong Yao set down the last plate and caught the glass mug that almost slipped out of Lin Zhu’s hands. He felt amused. “So impatient?”

But… maybe not impatience exactly.

Lin Zhu pressed his lips together. Now that he’d eaten, he was calmer, no longer floating in clouds. With his senses returned, he couldn’t stop replaying what Zhong Yao had said earlier.

His throat tightened a little, his ears reddening. “I want… I wasn’t clear-headed then. I want to hear you say it again.”

Zhong Yao had said it.

But he hadn’t responded yet.

Lin Zhu stood there, heart racing, gathering the courage to look up.

Zhong Yao was looking at him.

He had just finished washing dishes, still wearing a simple apron. His loungewear sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, the neckline slightly open, his expression calm and gentle.

Lin Zhu took a breath, mustering reckless bravery for the first time. “Say it… again… please?”

Zhong Yao’s ears reddened too.

“I was afraid you wouldn’t agree…” He rubbed his ear, smiling lightly, turning his gaze aside. “It’s kind of a fraudulent contract… I’m thirty. If I act until seventy-five, that’s forty-five years. But if I live to a hundred? There would still be twenty-five years left. That’s a long time…”

Lin Zhu couldn’t quite follow his train of thought. He listened in slight confusion, but when he heard the number, heat flickered in his chest.

If he agreed right away, then… they really had that many years they could spend together?

Lin Zhu regretted it a little.

He had reacted too slowly in the car.

If he had said yes the moment he got in, they could’ve had a few more hours together already.

Zhong Yao was just as nervous. He stood in place for a moment, inhaled slightly, about to speak—

—but Lin Zhu’s phone suddenly vibrated loudly.

His heartbeat stumbled. He nearly hung up immediately, planning to call back later, but Zhong Yao pressed his hand down gently and smiled. “Answer it.”

“Ge—”

“Pick it up so you won’t worry. I still have a lot to say to you… and something to show you.”

Zhong Yao smiled, his warm palm covering Lin Zhu’s hand, pausing briefly. “Once you take this call, we’ll… put the phone on silent. We’ll look at it after we’re done. Okay?”

Since the publicity team called at this hour, something important probably happened. Lin Zhu clenched his fist, steadied himself, and nodded, turning on speaker mode.

“Lin-laoshi, we passed the news to Clozeya tonight!” The PR staff member was thrilled. “They immediately replied. They thought we were intentionally ghosting them and have been anxious… Their shooting team is already prepared. Tomorrow we can negotiate the contract; they can start shooting the endorsement stills and promo video anytime!”

Lin Zhu relaxed slightly.

“You’re amazing! One trip and it’s settled. Canxing has called us ten times already, but we’ve ignored them!”

The PR staff rambled excitedly. “We’ve released all the info we can. We saw you and Zhong-laoshi got surrounded by reporters… lots of news is already out, and our PR team is busy. They said that the mechanical keyboard company put out a Year of the Dog limited edition— and it looks great…”

The PR staff’s calmness felt strange. Lin Zhu felt uneasy and cut in. “What does the news say? Nothing messy, right?”

Lin Zhu continued probing carefully. “Like… us publicly announcing something, for example… my relationship with Zhong laoshi…”

The PR staff was stunned. “You and Zhong-laoshi didn’t announce anything?”

Lin Zhu: “……”

“That— uh… when Zhong-laoshi said you’d work for him your whole life?” the staff guessed. “A few outlets posted about it. Netizens are reacting fine. Some are joking that Zhong-laoshi tricked you into a contract, saying since he played that businessman in Zhan Yuan, he must’ve picked up bad habits…”

The staff hesitated. “Do we need to control comments for this too? They’re just joking, they all put dog-head emojis¹specifically, the doge ones…”

Lin Zhu felt a headache coming on. He rubbed his forehead and breathed lightly. “No need. Let them joke.”

“Great, we didn’t interfere much. They seem to be having fun.”

The PR staff sighed in relief, then reassured him, “Don’t worry. As long as you don’t kiss or hug in front of cameras or wear matching rings or something, there’s nothing we need to control—”

Lin Zhu had spaced out, not paying attention. When he came back to his senses, he was a beat too late. His expression froze. He reached to cut the call, but Zhong Yao’s brow had already drawn together.

The rep kept talking, but Lin Zhu wasn’t listening anymore. His face had gone pale. His heart thudded anxiously. “Ge…”

“Wait.”

Zhong Yao raised a hand, stopping him from hanging up, and pulled him close.

He had just taken off his apron. He still carried the fresh scent of cooking, his warmth seeping through his shirt and into Lin Zhu’s shoulder, hot enough to make him shiver.

After spending so many days on that forum, even Lin Zhu had learned enough to understand. A thin layer of cold sweat gathered on his back. His heart pounded, fists clenched as he waited for Zhong Yao to speak.

Zhong Yao, who knew next to nothing about subculture, who had never filmed any romance scenes, whose understanding of same-sex relationships was limited to brotherhood — asked quietly, his voice low and cautious, “Aren’t those… things only people in a relationship are supposed to do?”

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  specifically, the doge ones